100 Degrees in NYC

It is hot. So hot that when you wake up in the morning, thee last thing you want to do is get dressed. Why can't it be socially acceptable to just be bare on a day like today?

Further complicating matters is that I have a thing against air conditioning. I spend way too much time in the fall, winter and spring whining about how I can't wait for summer. The last thing I am going to do is turn on the AC once the temperature hits 80 degrees. Not me, not at my house. I refuse to miss a second of summertime.

However, my bullheadishness becomes a problem this one week of the year when temperatures hit 100 degrees in NYC. It is necessary to find relief somewhere however, and this weekend, I found it at KMart.

The Cooling Tower fan is not only aesthetically-pleasing. It is a better design that the classic table top fan. (Space is a serious issue in NYC.) With the baby blowing on oscillate, high... You'd hardly know it was a smidge above 80 degrees.

Bar Games - 6th Grade Style

Hanging at Brass Monkey with my girl last week. We found ourselves on the way to being drunk, without really having that much fun. Absent mindedly, I am folding a napkin into this little "fortune teller" square game. I had no idea, I've stumbled upon the best bar game ever!

In no time, the bartender takes notice. Next thing I know, he is offering up suggestions and starts egging us on to get a little risque with our dares. Together the three of us come up with the following:

- Compliment someone
- Crank call from someone's cell
- Group Choice
- Pinch a stranger's tush
- Kiss someone
- Walk up to a random and pretend you know them
- Shot time
- Take a photo of a body part with someone's phone

There are almost no words for the amount of fun that was had. First one up. The bartender, he had to compliment someone - thankfully that someone was me. He liked the way my eyes matched my top. Then it was my friend's turn. She had to pretend she knew someone. By the time it was my turn to pinch someone's tush, all the folks around us were begging to go next.

It turned into quite a rambunxious evening... Who would have thought.

Although the game needs to end once eveyone memorizes what number goes with a particular dare. (You'd be surprised how ofter the kissing one is picked.)

DIRECTIONS

1. Square off a regular piece of paper by folding one corner of it over to the adjacent side so it makes a triangle, then cutting off the small rectangle of paper that remains outside the triangle.

2. Fold the two opposite ends of the triangle together to form a smaller triangle, then open the paper up. The paper now has diagonal creases from corner to corner.

3. Turn the paper so it looks like a diamond, then take each end of the diamond and fold it into the center. Once all four corners are folded in, your paper will have become a smaller square.

4. Flip your square over. Fold each corner in to the central point again. Now it's an even smaller square.

5. Fold your square in half, then unfold and fold in half the other direction.

6. Unfold and pull the four ends together, making a diamondlike shape. Pick up each of the four square flaps and put your fingers inside.

7. Now it's time to make the folded paper a fortune teller. Write on the outer four diamonds and the inner eight triangles, using colors and numbers for your friends to choose.

8. Last, write fun fortunes on the inside of the folds. Let the fortune telling begin!

Life on an Expense Account

My favorite job perk is my expense account.

Anything I do work related - out comes the AmEx, I sign away, knowing full well in 2 weeks, the money will be reimbursed to me. Supplies, Hotel Rooms, Airfare, Dinners, Drinks... I rack it up each month like my AmEx is on fire. Meanwhile, each transaction bring me a bit closer to that flat screen, wall panel television I've been lusting after.

I could never work in a public service sector. How in the world do those folks get by without an expense account. (Do they really pay for everything themselves?)

The catch, when you get your expense check for $7,145 and your bill is over $9,000. Um, now I am paying for my sins and up to my neck in past expense reports. Trying to figure out what's been reimbursed, what I forgot to expense...

Where in the world is this magical $2,000 going to come from?

Obsession D'Jour

I have an inclination to become obsessed with something, only to one day walk away as if it had never happened. Be it a favorite pair of jeans, Bikram Yoga, Tiny’s Tasty Happy Salad’s , or the cute architect. For days/weeks/months at a time, that one obsession is my favorite thing. Then one day as suddenly as it came on, it is gone…

My newest fascination is the Hummus Place on St. Mark’s Place (btw 1st and A). For months my roommate had been ordering from them and singing their praises. It wasn’t until I found myself with a lowly $5 for dinner that I decided to give the spot a try.

No one would suspect hummus to be so magnificent, but adding a hard boiled egg atop and I have enough protein to last me into next month. Avenue Elle is equally obsessed. We meet here at least once on each weekend. Last Saturday, we each dined on Hummus Foul, shared a bottle of red, some crazy gelatin-pink dessert and Turkish coffee. All for the heading price of $40. If we hadn’t ordered the wine, it would have been $20, leaving us plenty of money to spend at The Magician.

Stockpiling

I love when an author's social commentary mirrors what I'm feeling at a particular moment. It is always a surprise when reading and a particular section of the book makes you glance over your shoulder wondering how long the author has been tailing your every move. My current read, The Quality of Life Report by Meghan Daum, is chaulk full of these. My favorite, which I read this morning after a walk-o-shame:

"Given the census data, the seven hundred thousand surplus of single women, two men in one week was less an act of sluttishness than of stockpiling."

There it is - my behavior for the past two weeks completely justified. Two weeks+Three guys = Stockpiling. I've obviously broken my streak (364 days) and am making up for lost time. It is only a matter of time before the seemingly endless oasis of single men evaporates, so I am enjoying it and blogging about it, so when it comes to an end I can remember there was a better time.

This whole scene is making me wonder what my number is. When I was in college I kept a list, that was until my boyfriend found it and read the name after his. (Teach you to read a gal journal!) I'm curious how many gents I'll be able to recall. Perhaps I'll test myself. If I can't recall them, it doesn't count right? This is going to require the assistance of my friends, I'll need to tap there memory to confirm any missing links....

Are the Fab 5 about to get flushed?

It is highly possible that this dish, is not dish, but common knowledge. However, since I've been living under a rock these past few weeks. I am going to share what I know. Mid-project someone on my team who was trying to get a hold of the Queer Eye producers sends me this note:

Hi, Downtown Chic, here's the latest on "Queer Eye."

Finally reached someone in NYC office of Scout Productions - she said that many staffers are already gone as they are wrapping up the show's season - I asked for just anyone to speak with. She said to call the exec producer who works out of LA. I said but it's an NYC opportunity - ok, fine...

Called the LA number and person answering the phone at Scout Productions said he doesn't know if the executive producer works in that office anymore - I said fine - anyone in production will do. He said he couldn't locate anyone to transfer my call to as everyone was gone for the hiatus period.

I said fine - perhaps there is a story opp. for when they return - he said he's not sure they are coming back. I said whaddya mean - they may not be renewed? He said yes - they may not be renewed.

Two week MIA -- It had better be good.

My eligibility for the born-again virgin club was revoked this weekend.

The scene: Avalon, NJ at a daytime, keg/pool party. I’m in a hot tub with the ladies chatting about everything and everyone. In walk two cute boys, when conversation in the tub stops. (Did someone turn the hot tub heater on?) Thankfully, I was one of the few single gals, so as the married-folk start talking about how their men have packed on pounds since their wedding date. I jump out of the hot tub ready to introduce myself.

I read adjust my bikini, give my hair a good shake, then wrap a towel round my waist as I “walk-by” to the keg. Yup, caught their eye. After filling my beer and laughing at the keg longer and louder that probably necessary (see how fun I am?) After a couple sips of “confidence-juice” I sit down next to them and start making small talk. Completely casual….

Talking, talking, talking, I learn all about him. Blah, Blah, Blah… I am 32 ... Blah, Blah, Blah… I live in Philly. Blah, Blah, Blah… I run a bike shop… Blah, Blah, Blah.. Single... Blah, Blah, Blah…

The afternoon drunk fest breaks up around 11 PM as we all head into town for more drinking. Dancing gets a little crazy, a little crude... In my inebriated state, I sneak off with Bike Shop Boy and make out in a dark corner. We leave the bar early to beat all the other houseguests back. (In a house crammed with 25+ people, privacy is a luxury not often afforded.)

Things are going well, tame but well, as everyone arrives home. I mention that the beach is a couple blocks away. We headed to the beach and .... talked. No joke for like ever!

Honestly, I had given up on the whole thing and we started headed back to the house when we paused of a mini-makeout, which... well turned into a "Let's return to the beach". It was all quite unspecatcular. It happened right near the lifeguard chair. The whole time I'm thinking -- this is so 90210.

Now I get to and now I get to take off my "Pity-me-I-haven't-slept-with-anyone-in-a-year" party hat and get back into the game.